the youth are the fuel that have the potential to bring the fire to life,in a tragic way,it takes experience to realize that fact…
…and also there is the fact,that when you realize this,you are no longer young.
A shadow overthrows me,I have become that which cannot abide.A darkness has got the better of my judgment;rules me to this day.
That which rules me in the most cruel way is what I have already mentioned,and shall (so it would seem)always be a bane or a blemish upon my life.
I cannot,should I make myself clearer,understand where I went wrong.I can only look back,true I have become accustomed to what I am,and have adapted,but there always remains barriers caused by the past.That seems likely to be what is stopping me from truly moving on.So I may know true freedom (?)at long last.
Another day.Another day the same as the last,the one before that ect,ect.
Should I prepare to leave my flat,or should I just scan the internet (on meaningful sites) until I want to go out ,but cannot be bothered to fully get ready,and make it out to do not much really (I do this too often).
I have come to the decision to venture out,I may not want to,but I try to fool myself that I will feel better.
Now that I am out in the world,I am aware of the fact I am part of life,I am in it to make myself clearer.
Perpetual ‘voices’ in my head,I think anyway,are quelled when I am not alone.
When I converse with others that does not,in the main,seem to be an issue I have to face.
My mind is distracted,maybe? That,on the face of it,would seem to be most likely.
When among others (they simply go about their lives)I know not why,I do not feel so alone.
When I am back at my flat,my thoughts (Which I almost forgot in the day) return to haunt me as they always do.
They sat quietly in the corner,saying nothing,yet always thinking of what they could say.Another random ‘scrawl’ came forth,presented itself to their mind.
Yet another distraction,they became distant again,they could not decide what else to write.
Enough of all this endless cyclical line of thought.Why does this continue to repeat itself?Is a ‘journey’ of some form needed for me to change the results of all I am destined (or so it would seem ) to write? – They thought to themselves.
Do I really,or should I say,am I really that empty of thought?-So it would seem the musings shall carry on.
Has an ending now been reached? It would seem so. Yet something still torments me,brings me to a state of mind that disturbs me,I simply cannot explain why (or how) I feel this way.